Hobbit, Lord of the Rings Home

**Author's Note:** This is based on the movie-verse only and you should consider it AU to the extent that it may conflict with anything that Tolkien has written or Jackson has directed. That being said, I own nothing. But I would be really happy if you reviewed! Pretty please with a cute dwarf on top?

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**Home**

Arwen doesn't think much of dwarves. Even so, she can't help but take a second look when thirteen of them show up in Rivendell, unannounced. They stomp across the bridge, glowering. Each and every one of them. Their leader is a grim, dark looking dwarf with shocking blue eyes and a deep disdainful scowl. The others hardly look pleased. And are hardly pleasing to her fair eyes.

She is pleasantly surprised to see Mithrandir though. He is as tall and grey as ever, his eyebrows peeking out like an untrimmed hedge from the brim of his wizard's hat. She observes them from a distance as they speak to Lindor, one of her father's advisors.

Then her father arrives and the dwarves huddle together like frightened ducklings. As if her father would harm them. They are, after all, clearly companions of Mithrandir! She supposes it just goes to show that dwarves don't have manners. Stubborn, greedy, treasure crazy. She stops watching them and walks away.

Hours later she stumbles upon two of the dwarves. They're creeping through the halls of her father's house. One is dark with only a shadow of a beard on his face. He wears dark leathers and, surprisingly, has a bow and quiver in addition to a few swords. She thinks he must be fairly young for a dwarf. The other is shorter and blonde. He has bright blue eyes and the corners of his mouth are turned up in amusement.

"Come on," the dark one mutters. "He is going to be furious if we're not back before he gets back."

"He won't be that mad," the blonde one says. "Besides, he is with Gandalf and our burglar. Hopefully they do their leader thing and we can get on our way and away from here, but in the meantime, I mean to sneak a peek at the elves forges. Our own arts have been diminished since –"

"I know, I know," the younger dwarf says. "Honestly, I do. But Thorin will not like us trying to glean anything from a bunch of selfish elves."

Arwen can't help herself. She pops out of the alcove she was reading poetry in. "You have some nerve," she says. "You are in the Last Homely House east of the sea. I assure you that the House of Elrond is not filled with selfish elves."

They both start, eyes darting back and forth as if seeking a hasty exit. Arwen draws herself to her full height, glowering down at them. "I am the Lady Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, the elf-lord whose home you have been graciously and selflessly welcomed into. Name yourselves."

Both dwarves draw themselves to their full heights, then as one, they both bow low. "Fíli," the blonde one says.

"Kíli," the dark haired one says.

"At your service," they say together. Arwen can detect only a faint note of irritation in their voices. Kíli lifts his eyes to hers and they are smoldering. "I suppose it is somewhat rude to speak poorly of our host and those of his household, but we are justified."

"No," Arwen says, annoyed still, "You're not. What has Lord Elrond ever done for you?"

"What has he not done is the better question," Fíli says. "When Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, was taken by Smaug the Malevolent, he did nothing."

Arwen raises her brow as high as it would go. "And you would hold that against him? The fall of Erebor was brought about by the greed of the dwarves, not by the actions or inactions of my father. Why should he risk his people just so you can gather a few trinkets and bits of gold and gem?"

Kíli scowls. "What would you know –"

"I was alive then," she says, cutting him off. "I am far older than either of you. Tell me, are you even old enough to be away from your mother's bosom?"

Kíli glowers, but does not answer. Fíli steps forward, placing one hand against the nearly beardless dwarf. "We were born without a home," he says, "But we will take it back even though it may cost us our lives."

Arwen snorts in a very un-elfish way. "Take it back? Home, you poor young dwarf, is not a desolated mountain. Home is where you kin reside and where you have shelter from the elements. To my understanding your people have a home in the Blue Mountains." She smiles grimly at them. "You don't go searching for home. You go searching for gold and treasure and revenge. It is petty. You're driven by base greed and if you think otherwise, then you are deceiving yourselves."

Kíli looks as if he would say something, but Fíli glances at him, silencing the younger dwarf. "Where is your home, Lady Arwen? Here in this valley I suppose?"

"And in the lands of my mother's people in fair Lothlorien, a land unstained by the unwanted and unsolicited visits from greedy dwarves."

Fíli nods solemnly at her words. "And if they were destroyed or occupied would any other wood or valley be as fair and familiar to your eyes? Would it be home?"

Arwen shakes her head, brushing his words aside like fine lace. "You speak of what you do not know. This valley and the woods of Lorien are fairer than any cave. A cave, a hole in the mountain, is the same no matter where you are. The loss of Lorien or Rivendell would be a bitter blow to all that is good and pure in this world. The loss of Erebor was a hiccup in history. A tragedy, but hardly worth the cost of lives to reclaim it. Better that you live in the Blue Mountains and know what there might be of peace."

"I disagree," Fíli says softly, blue eyes flashing. "You speak of what you do not understand. You are like the others in Ered Luin, content to take less for our people. You would have us –"

"I would have you be polite when guests in the home of others," Arwen interrupts. "And as for you plan to give your lives retaking the Lonely Mountain, I feel that it is foolish and without hope."

"Sometimes one goes without hope," Kíli blurts out. He brushes past both his brother and Arwen, glowering daggers at her. She hears him slamming every door that he can between him and her as he leaves.

Fíli folds his arms across his chest, looking up at her. "I will not apologize for him," he says finally with a sigh. "But I would say this to you Lady Arwen, you may be older than any dwarf on our quest, but you are naïve and childish. You speak about things that you do not know. You live sheltered from reality in this valley and I hear tell that the woods of Lorien are even more sheltered."

Arwen flushes at his words and without really meaning to, she slaps him across his face.

A red imprint appears on his cheek and he arches an eyebrow at her. "Really?"

Arwen feels the heat of shame burn her throat. "I apologize," she murmurs, ducking her head and averting her eyes. "I do not know what overcame me."

Fíli eyes her silently. "There is nothing to apologize for, I suspect," he says. "You were insulted by my words. But your actions prove them right." He strokes his beard thoughtfully. "My uncle dislikes your kind very much, but honestly this is the first time that I have spoken with one of you. I can see the reason for his dislike." He starts past her without another word.

"Wait," Arwen calls out. "Do not judge all elves by my behavior, Fíli."

He pauses. "It is not just your behavior," he says. He fingers the stone by the doorway. His fingers are dirty and bruised. Arwen wonders what kind of life he has led suddenly and wants to ask but doesn't. He squares his shoulders and turns back to her. "I judge also that when my family was viciously attacked by a dragon the elves did not come. And when we wandered, scattered, the elves did nothing. And now, when we have gathered our courage to face our doom you tell us that our loss is a mere 'hiccup in history.'"

He steps closer. "But I understand better now I think. You will never be where we have been. If this place is destroyed by orcs – if Lorien burns to ash – you will still not be where we are. Even if there is no other place on Middle Earth for you to call home, you can simply leave. Elves sail away into the Undying Lands. They do not stay to face heartache."

Arwen feels a lump in her throat. "That is not true," she says, although she knows that it is. Her own mother was unable to stay after her capture and torment by the orcs. The stories of her people are filled with those who left the shores of Middle Earth. "I will not leave," she says. "I will stay until the days lengthen into darkness or until the dawn breaks and the Shadow departs forever."

Fíli shakes his head. "So you say, but I wonder, whether you will be able to bear the thought of your home being taken by your enemies. I suspect that you will flee. But maybe I am wrong. Maybe you will understand that even though there is darkness in this world there could also be hope." He smiles then. "I will trust to hope," he says. "And give myself gladly to death to protect my kin and the future of my people."

"And the fabled treasure?" Arwen asks.

"Oh, I plan to enjoy it," he says. Then he smiles broadly and his eyes dance. "Tell you what, Lady Arwen. When we take the mountain, if I still live, I will make you something. A token of hope. You shall like it, I suspect, should I ever craft it." He does not tell her what form the token would take. Instead he bows again and begs her leave. His time is expired. The moon has risen high into the sky and he must meet with the Company before Thorin and Balin return from their meeting with Elrond. "Farewell, Lady of Rivendell," he says.

Arwen follows him through the house of her father. She watches him depart with the others. He does not look back. She is struck suddenly with a passing thought and calls out softly although he cannot hear her, "You go to your death, young dwarf. But what words could I say to cool the passion in your heart? You march to ruin, but maybe in that ruin there is salvation for others?"

Years later, she reflects on that chance meeting as she rides for the Grey Havens. She is leaving Middle Earth, unable to face the twilight even for the ones she loves. She turns her head, shadows falling across her face. Then, in her moment of surrender, a vision dances before her eyes. A young child darting between the trees, laughing merrily. He could be her son if she is brave enough to linger, if she stands tall and faces whatever bitter end may await her in the end.

She turns her horse from the Grey Havens and rides to hope and ruin. She rides to her childhood home and her father. And she thinks that maybe, just maybe she has finally realized what it cost the dwarves to face a dragon.


End file.

Hobbit, Lord of the Rings